Assassin's Creed: Modern AU
by SimmerJeen
Summary: This is the story about a group of friends who met during college and have stayed in touch ever since. They don't even remember how exactly they met, and some of them even think it's a weird, dysfunctional friendship. But they knew it was a definite compact group despite the underlying tension between some of them, and that the memories they make will eventually be worth recalling.
1. It's All About Happiness

It was already noon, and Desmond was still in bed. His head was feeling pretty heavy from all that clubbing and drinking he did last night, which resulted in him immediately passing out as he arrived home. He slowly started to wake up as he heard loud voices coming from the living room.

His roommates, Altair and Ezio, were having, yet again, another argument. They've been bickering for a few hours now. It was obvious that Altair got on Ezio's nerves sometimes. He thinks he's too arrogant and absent-minded. Meanwhile, Ezio's lifestyle was too discomforting for Altair and too hard to cope with. So the arguments between these two occured quite often, even over the slightest things. This time, it was about who claims control over the TV remote controller. Altair wanted to watch the History Channel whereas Ezio insisted to put on the Cooking Channel instead. Neither one of them was winning as both Syrian and Italian kept pulling on the remote, and the TV kept altering between numerous channels as the fight persisted.

Desmond found the arguments to be infuriating, but he barely had the energy to get out of bed and shut his roommates up. Then again, he's gotten used to it every morning.

The gripping contest lasted for a while, before the phone started ringing. _Who still uses the land line?_ Altair and Ezio froze and turned their heads to the source of the ringing. Altair glared at Ezio before dropping the controller and racing to the phone, leaving Ezio disgruntled for a moment. The latter remembered that the TV was now available, which made for the perfect opportunity for him to watch his show.

"Yes?" Altair answered.

"Hi," the voice on the other line spoke, "is this Ezio or Altair?"

"Does my accent sound Italian, you ignorant?" Altair spat.

"Sorry, it's hard to tell who's who over the phone."

The Syrian sighed, "what do you want?"

"The Fryes suggest we go camping this weekend."

"Did they, now?"

"Oh my bad, I forgot. You'd burn if you ever go out under the sun." Altair rolled his eyes.

"Very funny, Connor. You can tell them that I'm not going."

Connor snorted. "I guess that's typical."

"Will that be all?"

"Just let Desmond and Ezio know. Unlike you, they know how to have fun at least." He instantly hung up, leaving Altair to stare at the phone in disbelief before he hung up. He turned to Ezio, who spoke as he focused on the show.

"So, what did Connor want?" he asked.

"Nothing important, just something about a camping trip." Altair bitterly replied as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

Ezio grinned, "Sounds like fun."

The sound of the bottle cap coming off was heard, "You and Desmond go, then."

Ezio turned the TV off and got up from the couch. "Okay, we get it. You''re an introvert, and quite frankly a bit unpleasant sometimes… But it wouldn't kill you to get out and enjoy your time every once in a while."

"Me? Unpleasant?" Altair furrowed his eyebrows.

Ezio groaned, "No, the other Altair. As if the name is that common."

Altair pressed his lips together as he briefly contaminated his anger. Briefly afterwards, he snapped at Ezio. "Fal tazhab ila nar. (Go to hell.)" he muttered, setting the bottle on the counter and storming into his room.

Ezio rolled his eyes at his behavior and followed him.

"You're unbelievably sensitive." Ezio said as he leaned on the door to Altair's bedroom.

"And you're unbelievably annoying." retorted Altair.

"So, what will it be?"

"No. Now get out."

"Come on, what's a fun gathering without the grumpy mentor? Don't make us drag you there by force." Ezio chuckled, earning a glare from Altair.

"Seriously? Good luck trying to lay a hand on me." He growled, "besides why do you care so much?"

Ezio got off the door frame, "Honestly, I don't trust you alone in the house." He shrugged.

Altair snorted, "quite hypocritical coming from you."

"You're going, and that's final." Ezio walked out of the room.

"No, I'm not!" Altair yelled.

He got off the bed and went back to the kitchen, picking up his beer and going back to watch TV. Ezio put on his cooking apron, which earned a small mocking chuckle from Altair. The former glared at him, "Don't mock, Altair. Especially when you have those table-cloths you call Assassin Robes."

Altair lowered his beer. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How'd you know about this?"

"I can't see I'm surprised, but your kinks are none of my business."

Altair rolled his eyes and turned the TV back on, switching back to the History Channel.

Desmond's door opened to reveal the young man wobbling while rubbing his eyes sleepily. His hair was messy and he was only wearing his jeans from last night. He gave a loud groan and walked to the kitchen area, heading to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk.

He jumped on the couch next to Altair, earning a glare from the latter. "What's up with you?" He asked.

Desmond shook the carton of milk as he gave a roommate a displeased look, "Apart from me getting tired of your bantering smashing my ears every fucking morning, I've got this killer hangover headache."

"There are some meds in the bathroom cabinet."

"Yeah, I know. Because most of them are _mine_."

"God, you're such a nuisance." Altair commented.

Desmond furrowed his eyebrows at him. "Oh, I'm the nuisance, Altair?" he retorted.

Ezio yelled from the kitchen, interrupting their argument, "By the way, Desmond, the Fryes suggested we go on a camping trip together."

"Great, great. We'll get all warm and cozy with each other around the fire." Desmond mocked. He eyed Altair, "you're coming?"

Altair snorted. "Wouldn't want to miss the chance to _get all warm and cozy_ now, would I?"

Desmond chuckled, "fuck you." He put down the carton of milk on the coffee table and got up.

"Evie coming too?" He asked Ezio.

"I guess, yeah."

"Cool. You let them know we're of us."

Altair groaned, making Desmond smirk. "Glad you finally decided to come," he said. He gave Altair a pat on the back and headed to the bathroom.


	2. Frye's Raging Party

The rays of sun penetrated through the closed curtains, provoking Jacob into waking up. He groaned as he stretched his arms upwards before taking a glance at his phone and checking the time. He begrudgingly got out of bed and walked into the living room of the apartment, making his way to the kitchen. As he poured himself a mug of coffee, he noticed a note casually sitting on the counter beside the coffee maker, which he unfolded and quickly read. His sister Evie was out with her boyfriend and was probably not expected to come back before the next morning.

Jacob found himself in a "Eureka" moment, grinning as the craziest idea came to his mind. It was the perfect opportunity, he thought, to outshine Edward Kenway, and reclaim the title of "Party King" as his own. The old man was a notorious party animal, and ever since he threw his famous retirement party that included many exotic dancers and lots of rum that was barreled in the old-fashioned way, no one, by all means, was able to best him. Jacob admits he thoroughly enjoyed attending that party, but that's besides the point. He was known for throwing the wildest parties that remained the talk of the town for days. He won't be so easily forgotten.

It was time for him to make a comeback, and he made sure to let everybody know.

 _Party at my place, tonight at 7 PM._

He posted the announcement on his account, and soon the social medias were buzzing with the news.

Satisfied, Jacob proceeded with the preparations. So he called his little army of friends, and ordered them to bring the supplies over. They were a bunch of deliquints that he met in his junior year in college while they were still freshmen, and they stuck to his side ever since. He wasn't as close to any of them as he was to his group of best friends, but the lads admired and looked up to him, and Jacob absolutely loved that feeling.

Still sipping his coffee, he leaned against the counter and scrolled through the posts on his feed, smirking as he noticed the news spreading quite quickly. One post, however, caught his attention: some guy was wishing for a certain Edward Kenway to attend the party, as it 'would bring fun to this Dullsville.' And apparently, 106 others agreed with him. Jacob found it slightly provoking, but it was a trivial opinion for him, so he decided to just ignore it and focus on the preparations instead.

People have started to come, and soon enough, the apartment was crowded. Jacob didn't care for the fact that he knew none of them except for his gang, the Rooks, but he seemed pleased to see the amount of people that came, which proves him yet again how popular he is.

Jacob came and sat down on his couch, holding a beer bottle in his hand, and watched the guests dancing and drinking, sensing they were having a good time, which subsequently put him in a state of satisfaction. Not moments later, the doorbell rang. Jacob got up and went to answer it. Displeased at the sight before him, he put his arm on one side of the door frame and his other arm on his waist. It was none other than Grandpa Kenway, held by the arm of his grandson, Connor. Jacob gave Connor a low nod, to which the latter responded with a quick wave.

"He heard the news, and he wanted to come." Connor said. The look he had on his face obviously spoke of exasperation, however Edward's was somehow inexplicable. His grin was wide and his eyes seemed drowsy. Jacob's theory has been confirmed once he caught a glimpse of the bottle of ale he was holding; he was drunk.

Edward grasped out of his grandson's hold and pushed past Jacob, making a remarkable entrance which the guests have greeted with excited cheers. Jacob abruptly turned around, his eyes focusing on Edward as they widened in horror.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Connor moved and stood next to him, sighing and crossing his arms. "Trust me, I hate this too." h said. Jacob instantly furrowed his eyebrows and went to sit back down on the couch. Connor decided to join him. After he sat down, Jacob turned to him. "Want some beer?"

Connor just shook his head, "I'm good."

"How's your father?"

Connor barked out a laughter, "He still enjoys being an asshole. Thanks for asking, though." Jacob side-eyed him, giving him a sorry look which had gone unnoticed by Connor.

"Sorry to hear about that," he eventually said. "At least you still have your granddad." His eyes immediately went back to Edward, and he couldn't help but give him a look of disgust as he danced between the young adults.

Connor snorted, "That doesn't make up for it." he leaned forward and rested his arms just above his knees. "But, I mean, I thought he had settled in the Bahamas. He even bought a villa there, and all. So why would he come back?"

Jacob shrugged in response as he gulped down a mouthful of beer, "He probably missed his family."

"My dad always said he had a dysfunctional bond with him."

"Ah. That's completely normal." Jacob grumbled. "What about your aunt? You ever hear from her?"

"Nah. She made the right choice bailing on both of them."

"It's never right to bail on family."

Connor scowled at him. "You gotta lay off the beer, man. You're one bottle away from spilling out your sorrows all over again." Jacob dismissed him with a wave and continued drinking, which made Connor slightly chuckle.

He enjoyed the friendship he had with the English young man. He considered it to be one of the very few genuine bonds he had; one that, he sadly didn't share with his father. Jacob was almost always there for him, even if they never really get sentimental with each other, but the level of trust and appreciation they held for each other was indescribable. And eventually, they've grown to become the brothers each one of them wished to have.

Both of them kept observing Edward, who bent down on the keg and tapped the beer into his mouth. However, it seemed to have slipped his mind that he was no longer as flexible as he was in his younger days, which led to him spraining his back and falling on the floor. Jacob's eyes enlightened, filled with intoxication, and grinned widely. Connor brutally got up and went to help his grandfather, feeling slightly embarrassed as all eyes were on him when he struggled to bring Edward to his feet.

"Let's just get out of here…" Connor mumbled to his grandfather. Edward groaned in pain, but managed to give a nod in approval. Jacob quickly got up and accompanied the two men to the exit.

"Friendly advice: as much of a great show drunk Eddie is, he can't be left unsupervised." He said.

Connor rolled his eyes as Jacob held back a chuckle.

"Whatever, man. It's your time to shine now, I guess." He motioned to the party that was casually going on back in the living room. Jacob smiled as he waved them goodbye. As the two men left, Jacob noticed a familiar figure heading towards him. He arched his eyebrows, "Oh no…" he muttered. The person stopped and stood in front of him. It was the landlord, the disgruntled Maxwell Roth.

"Mister Roth-"

"Save it, darling." Roth held his palm up as he interrupted him, clearly cross. "It seems you have chosen to ignore me when I tell you not to throw any more parties."

"It's a lifestyle, mister Roth." Jacob shrugged. His reply made the landlord even more infuriated.

"This will be my last warning. Break it up in this instance, or I will have to take drastic measures myself. " He turned around and left, leaving no room for Jacob to reply.

Returning to his party, he grabbed himself another cup of beer. "Time to kick it up a notch." He inhaled the drink and made his way through the guests right to the center of the dance floor.

The volume of the music went up, almost deafening him from the sounds of cheers around him. His sight was a complete blur, preventing him from making out the appearances of the forms dancing around him. The intoxicating feeling finally kicked in, igniting his adrenaline. Jacob started dancing widely and manically, which earned positive responses from his guests, who were almost equally intoxicated. As the music changed to a smoother sound, the guests started to move more slowly so Jacob found himself doing the same. He closed his eyes, as his head was slightly spinning from the previous fast movement. He felt a pair of hands suddenly land on his shoulders. Taken by surprise, Jacob shot his eyes open and looked at the person before him. It was a woman. She had honey-tinted eyes and a smile that instantly captivated him. Her hands were still on his shoulders as she began to slightly grind against him, her long golden locks grazing his arms with every move. Her moves made Jacob feel flattered; he was enjoying all the attention. He grabbed the woman by her hips and they now moved in sync with each other. The woman closed her eyes and let out a smooth, carefree laugh, indicating how drunk she was. Jacob closed his eyes as well and continued to dance, his senses slowly drifting under the effect of alcohol.

The music was suddenly interrupted, separating Jacob from the mystery dancer. He looked at the stereo and saw a couple of brutish figures, who were all dressed in the color red. Jacob approached them, and got a much clearer look.

"Heard you was throwin' a party. Kinda rude you didn't invite us." One of them spoke. Jacob found that voice familiarly annoying. It was then he realized that the Blighters, A.K.A the most infamous street gang in the district, have crashed his party.

"It was an open invitation, lads. I must say though, up until now, I was glad you didn't show up." He laughed.

One of the brutes pushed past him as another one threw a punch at his jaw, sending him to the floor. The brute gave a mocking laugh, silencing the entire room. Jacob recovered from the punch and wiped the blood off his mouth. He looked around and saw the other brute holding one of the vases on the coffee table, which he launched at the large window, leaving a large gap right in the center. Jacob's eyebrows rose as his mouth slightly dropped. Altering from shock to pure fury, Jacob instantly got back on his feet and darted the brutes.

"You just made a huge mistake coming here." He muttered before he leapt on them, causing a commotion that earned gasps from the guests, who immediately started cheering Jacob on. He threw punches and kicks, but he received a fair share of them as well. The guests were starting to place bets on the brawl to make it more interesting. Most bets were on Jacob, as he was known to be fierce and remorseless when he's intoxicated, and also quite unpredictable in combat.

Much to everyone's surprise, Jacob was able to defeat all of the bullies. The music resumed playing, and the guests applauded him. People started patting him on his back and giving him high-fives. Suddenly, someone threw themselves at him and pressed their lips against his. The kiss was too short, and Jacob didn't know how to react. But when it broke off, he noticed it was actually the girl he shared a dance with earlier. He smiled when he saw the look she was giving him. He pulled her into another kiss, and a fiery one at that.

The door suddenly blasted open, revealing an exasperated Maxwell Roth holding a hose in his hand. He stepped inside the apartment and started spraying everyone with water, interrupting the party. Jacob pulled away and watched as the landlord was in the process of ruining his party.

"Everyone, out! Now!" Roth yelled.

The guests begrudgingly headed for the door, along with the Blighters who were limping, now soaking wet. One guy stopped in front of Jacob and gave him a thumbs-up. "Kick-ass party, dude." Jacob felt satisfied. Despite everything, the guests actually enjoyed the party. And to them, he was the true Party King.

Roth turned the stereo off and let out a relaxed sigh. "At last, some peace." He gave Jacob a glare.

"Is this what you call a 'drastic measure'?" Jacob laughed, now completely intoxicated.

Roth narrowed his eyebrows, "Don't test me, mister Frye. Make sure to keep it quiet from now on." With his hose dangling behind him, Roth made his way to the exit, going back up to his apartment. Jacob took a look at the living room, and laid his eyes on the large gap in the window. He genuinely didn't care, and that was plus side for being drunk. He couldn't think about his sister's reaction when she comes home the next day and sees the mess her brother made. For now, all he needed was a good night's sleep. But before he could even take one step towards his bedroom, he suddenly hit the ground and and passed out.


	3. A Kenway Soirée

As the night rolled over, a coolness invaded Haytham's senses. By now, he has made a ritual of simply sitting on his armchair by the window with a glass of champagne as the only companion he needed and a bowl of fancy nuts on the end-table next to him, should he occasionally crave some. As his favorite classical tunes played in the background, he slowly sipped his wine, taking in the serene music while he admired the vista outside his house. The sky was in a paler hue of black in the center of which the moon was sitting, radiating luminous reflections onto dark nature that was desperate for a beam of life before the upcoming winter deprives her of it.

Haytham always found it serene to stare out his window; it temporarily takes his mind off of his chaotic sot of a father, and his hopeless case of a son. It also relieves him of the stress of his work duties. Despite being proud of his successful career as Head of the local branch of Abstergo Industries, the responsibility that comes with it can be quite overwhelming sometimes. Also, it's not with pride that you pay the bills.

Haytham felt allured by the silence. He put down his glass and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. However, the cacophonous sounds of his father's off-key chanting soon came surging from across the hallway, sending Haytham out of his trance. The door opened in one sudden movement and Edward entered while he still chanting and Connor entered right after him. He didn't bother to greet his father and went directly into his bedroom. He could feel Haytham's burning glare on his back but he didn't want to turn around. Haytham looked back at Edward as the latter was skipping with joy, reminiscing about his days out in the open sea throughout the chants he was singing out-of-key. Haytham got up from his seat and went to his son's bedroom. Connor was sitting crossed-legged on his bed, reading. He gave Haytham a glare as he entered without bothering to knock first. "Come and hold down your grandfather, would you?" Haytham bitterly asked. He left the room wordlessly and headed to the bathroom. He reached for the medicine cabinet and grabbed the syringe next to his Advil pills. Connor groaned as he closed his book and hopped off the bed. He was no longer hearing Edward singing, so he went out to the living room to check, only to find his grandfather sleeping on the couch.  
Haytham paced out of the bathroom, ready to plunge the syringe into his father, before he was stopped by his son. Haytham held his stance, as he observed a peacefully-sleeping Edward, lightly snoring. Connor couldn't help but smile. He decided to head back to his room, but got stopped by his father's hand gripping on his arm.

"We can't leave him out here." Haytham hissed.

Connor eyed his grandfather. "Are you saying you're going to help me this time?"

Haytham remained silent, which earned a scoff from Connor. "He's your father!"

"Oh, all right." Haytham groaned. He put the syringe aside and dusted off his hands. He and Connor bent next to Edward, each taking an arm and putting it on their shoulders, and lifted him to his feet. Edward stopped snoring, as if he was regaining consciousness. The two men dragged him all the way to his bedroom and laid him on his bed. Edward slightly shifted in his sleep as he started to snore again. Haytham walked out of the room and Connor stayed. He pulled the blanket up to cover his grandfather, and turned the lights off before closing the door behind him as he left the room. He noticed Haytham returning the syringe to its usual spot in the medicine cabinet, while sneaking a couple of strange-looking pills and quickly swallowing them with a glass of water. Connor watched as Haytham cringed at the bitter taste of the medicine and slightly leaned on the sink with his head down in contemplation. After regaining his posture, he closed the medicine cabinet and walked out, noticing his son staring at him.

"Everything okay with your grandfather?" He asked nonchalantly.

Connor blinked as he shook his head, "Yeah. Yeah. All good."

"Good."

Haytham began to make his way to his bedroom, but Connor's words stopped him from taking any step further.

"Do you even still care?" He asked.

Haytham turned around and glared at his son, taken aback with his question. "Of course, I do."

Connor ground his teeth, "Do you really? Or are you just saying that?"

Haytham paused, taking quick glances around the room, before meeting his son's gaze again. "I do," he eventually replied, "really."

Connor nodded disappointingly, "I don't believe you."

Haytham sighed, "I am not particularly proud of your choice of career, but you are still my son, and I am proud of you for being so determined at least."

Connor's gaze softens.

"Good night." Haytham said in a barely audible tone before he retreated to his room, leaving Connor suspended.

Connor shook his head back to reality, trying to take in what his father just told him. A sad smile drew on his lips as a a single tear escaped his eye and traveled down his cheek. Hating how vulnerable he felt in this instant, his smile faded and he quickly wiped his tear away before going back to his bedroom and collapsing on his bed. He took a look at the time: it was 2 in the morning. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling slightly hesitated, before he grabbed his phone and typed in his message.

"Hi mom, how are the art exhibits coming along? I miss you. Call me as soon as you can."

He exhaled as he hit "Send" and set his phone on the table next to him before drifting off to sleep.


	4. A French Man At A Party

At an early stage in his life, Arno found himself drawn into the hipster culture. He's almost never seen without a Bean Machine coffee cup in his hand wherever he goes or without the beanie he wears over his shoulder-length hair even in the warmest weather, not to mention the bug-eyed glasses he usually wears when his eyesight is perfectly fine. He lives in a small apartment in a safe and quaint neighborhood where there is a Bean Machine coffeeshop - Arno's favorite. Between his daytime job as a bookstore clerk and working on his aspiring novel at night, he could barely find some free time to be able to catch up with his close Aveline, whom he was barely talking to anymore. Arno felt guilty being estranged from her for this long, but they're worlds apart, literally. Aveline decided to settle in New Orleans and build her career there whereas Arno preferred to stay here where everything was safe and familiar.

That one particular evening was too dim for his liking. He found the darkness too ominous as it implemented a familiar feeling of uneasiness in him which he couldn't shake no matter where he walked. But he eventually decided to visit the coffee shop and grab a quick beverage. The neighborhood was quiet and empty. For a second, Arno found it aberrant behavior. But then he remembered Jacob Frye was throwing a party and he lived nearby. Arno always thought Jacob's parties were lame, and frankly, he and Jacob weren't the closest of friends anyway. So why go?

As he entered the coffee shop, Arno was greeted with an aromatic combination of coffee beans and various flavors that instantly invoked a feeling of warmth in his core. He scoped the place as he headed to the bar and noticed how empty the place was. The barista himself was sitting in one of the booths, sipping camomile tea and reading a book. His eyes averted from his book and landed on Arno, who put his hands in his pockets, waiting to place his order. The barista got up and hurried to the back of the counter. He gave Arno a fake apologetic smile as he greeted him. "How may I help you, sir?"

The hipster gave him a dirty look, "I'll have a decaf soy latte with an extra shot and cream."

As the barista began to process his order, Arno went to study the place and his eyes landed on an unusual pair of suited men sitting at a table, sipping their coffee and casually chatting among themselves before one of them suddenly received a phone call. Arno's curiosity got the best of him and practically pushed him to further investigate the middle-aged men's situation. The phone call was brief and soon afterwards, the man signaled his companion to get up. Arno found himself approaching them until he was mere inches away. Both of them stared at him dumbfounded.

"Need something?" One asked, his voice was low and husky. He gave Arno a skeptical look that accentuated the wrinkles decorating his face. He had a full set of messy hair, and his green eyes seemed to hold a foreboding ember. All in all, an appearance that intimated the younger man.

"No." Arno arched his eyebrows, "But do _you_ need something?"

The two men stared at each other with confusion and simultaneously turned back to Arno. "Are you high, son?" the other one asked, with a obnoxiously loud nasal voice. Unlike the first one, he was balding, and what remained of his hair was fairly greasy. His eyes were emotionless, as if they were dead.

Arno shook his head and sniggered, "No, no. Look, I couldn't help but overhear that you were running some sort of investigation-"

"This is none of your concern, civilian." The intimidating man spoke, which made the other one look at him with confusion. "Seriously?" He groaned obnoxiously. They were now both staring intensely at each other.

"All I'm saying is that I can provide you with a "more advanced" assistance. If you'll let me join you." Arno intervened.

The two professionals did not budge at the proposition of this civilian, but were instantly taken aback once he extended his arm and revealed a long, well-hidden blade. They looked at each other once more, and one of them nodded to the other.

"Agent Dave Norton."

"De Santa."

Arno sheathed his blade, and grinned. "Arno Dorian."

"Sir, your order is ready." The barista announced. Arno completely ignored him and exited the shop with the two men, leaving the barista in a disgruntled state, which made him angrily throw the cup in the trash can.

The two men got into the car and looked at Arno, motioning him to enter. Hesitantly, Arno opened the car door and entered. The engine turned and the car went speeding on the road. The entire ride was silent and soon enough, they came to a stop next to a beach house across the road. There was obviously a party going on there. The men turned to the back, dead-eyeing Arno.

"See this house, numbskull?" Michael nodded towards the villa in the distance, "we want you to infiltrate it."

Arno nodded, "sounds easy enough."

"We'll stay out here and provide you with details over the earpiece." Dave informed as he handed Arno a communication device. "Once we've completely ID-ed the target, you go in for the kill."

Arno's eyes shot up, "Wait- what? Kill?!" he snapped in disbelief, causing Michael to furrow his eyebrows at him. "You signed up for this, numbskull." he said with a stern, intimidating voice, "now, you go in there and do as you're told."

Arno suddenly felt perplexed and anxious. At this moment, all he could think of was getting out of the car, run away and not look back. But he got himself involved in this mess, so he couldn't get himself out of it unless it's done. But killing someone? Arno would never go this far. At least he never thought he would.

He sighed heavily, and exited the car, making his way across the street and to the villa. Muffled pop music was playing, but it was loud enough to be heard from the street. Arno entered the house and made his way among the guests, sharing glances with a few of them.

Arno put his index on his ear, "I'm inside." he mumbled into his earpiece.

"Great. Do you see any Azerbaijani?"

Arno frowned in confusion, "excuse me?" His reply earned a growl coming from the other end of the line.

"Any black men at the party, numbskull?" Michael practically snapped.

"Oh, and how was I supposed to know what an Azerbaijani is?!" Arno retorted. "But, yes, there are a couple."

"Just blend with the crowd for the meantime, while we gather more information." David suddenly spoke.

The communication was cut, so Arno went looking for a distraction. He started roaming the halls, admiring the unusual paintings and sculptures, gathering up stray drinks and taking a sip of each of them, and even getting together with some of the guests and discussing their shared point of view about the Flower Power. He lost track of time, but he eventually came to the realization that he was being a hypocrite; he wouldn't go to Jacob's party but he was at a party right now. Though, he must admit, he found the people that understood him, with whom he got along very well. Whereas if he had attended Jacob's party instead, he would probably be cast out and sitting in the corner of the kitchen, like the antisocial human he is, taking great advantage of the alcohol.

"Yo numbskull," Michael's shrill voice came up, violently shaking Arno and interrupting him. "You reading us?"

Arno groaned in annoyance, "Yes. Now, tell me who am I looking for?"

"Our sources indicate that the target has a beard, smokes and is left-handed. Extra intel provided: he only smokes Redwood Cigarettes."

"Copied."

His eyes wandered among the guests, and yet no one on this floor accurately matched the description he was given. He went up to the second floor and resumed his search. There were dozens of people, it made Arno slightly claustrophobic. The assassin found it difficult to determine his target as there were multiple Azerbaijani with weak chins.

"What's taking so long?" Michael barked through the earpiece.

"Give me a minute." Arno retorted.

He shut his eyes in frustration, wishing for a sign that could guide him to his target. Once he opened them again, a golden shadow emerged from between the crowd. Arno followed it. He found the golden target right in front of him on the balcony with his back turned to him. He had a large figure, he was dressed in the finest fabrics and he held a cigarette between his fingers in his left hand.

"Found you…" Arno whispered to himself as he smirked in satisfaction.

He tiptoed to his target and slowly drew his blade from his wrist. He was now behind him, ready to proceed with the assassination. The pointy end of the blade was mere inches away from his back. Arno took a sharp breath, and swiftly planted the pointy end below the target's jaw. Blood spewed as soon as the piece of metal was removed from the flesh. The man immediately fell backwards, as he lay lifeless in his own pool of blood. Arno's blade hand began to perspire and his legs began to shake. His mouth was beginning to dry as he looked at the streaming amount of blood coming out of the wound, now staining his shoes. He then looked at the man's face. His beard was smudged in red, his mouth slack, and his eyes were open, staring deep into Arno's, and bringing him a feeling of uneasiness. He stepped across the dead body and jumped off the balcony, without calculating the height of the jump. Surprisingly, he landed almost perfectly. He jogged back to the sedan where the two agents were, rapidly entering the vehicle. "So, it's done?" Michael asked.

Arno panted, "Yes."

"Steve, it's done." David said over his communicator, before reaching for his wallet and taking out a fair amount of money and handing it to Arno. "Thank you for doing this." Arno looked at the money in his extended hand, before hesitantly taking it and exiting the vehicle without saying a word. He watched as the car drove off in the distance, and went to haul a whole ride back, he couldn't stop thinking about the heinous act he committed. But he tried to convince himself that he did it for the greater good, and that he may have eliminated what could be a great threat to this country. At least, with this thought, his mind felt a bit at ease. And perhaps, the experience would make a great plot for his next novel….


	5. A Deal Gone Twisted

Shay leaned on his kitchen table. A platter of cheese sat in front of him, untouched. His despair always got to his appetite but it never intervened with his lust for wine. He was still a man sulking in his youth but his cruel encounters with whom he used to call his "friends" had aged him to possess the woes of a man devoured by the years. He pulled his chair out and poured himself a glass of red wine, which he roughly consumed as he pictured it the blood he had spilled over the past years. Calming music played in the background, as if it might replace his constant feeling of anxiety with a little bit of tranquility.

He kept thinking about how fast he left his old organization, turning his old friends into rivals. He constantly convinced himself that he left for all the right reasons, but he couldn't help but let the guilt of treason eat him out. For many nights, insomnia would come and haunt him. He would lie in his bed and stare at the ceiling light, occasionally watching his chest slowly rise and fall as his breathing was steady. His thoughts would then drag by in slow motion, and start bombarding his head. But eventually, the excessive overthinking would make him drift off to sleep. Normally, he would get five hours of sleep, on bad days, he would get only two.

After three sips of wine, Shay got up from the table, almost toppling off his chair, and limped to the front door. His modest, yet very spacious home was beginning to feel drearier than it was already and he thought that perhaps some fresh air would do him good. He grabbed his trench coat from the hanger and tugged it around his chest, before he went out and closed the door behind him.

As he walked, the wind ruffled with his ponytail, almost loosening the ribbon around it. It played with his coat as the sound of its howling grew louder, practically deafening him. Fortunately, Shay thought, it wasn't raining. He hated getting damped. He thought he would get some piece of mind on this walk but he couldn't help but feel constantly paranoid. Every now and then, he would turn around and glance at his surroundings to see if anyone was following him. Deciding to give himself the benefit of the doubt, he kept walking. He fastened his pace, focusing his hearing on any sound of footsteps he could pick up from a distance. He learned to trust his senses, and as always, they have never failed him. He turned around as he picked up the sound of footsteps picking up the pace, to catch up to Shay. He caught a man, who froze dead in his tracks, wearing a brown trench coat almost similar to the one Shay wore, a matching cap and a mask that covered half his face. He held a pistol in one hand, and a cell phone in the other. He exchanged glances between Shay and the screen of his cellphone.

"Yep, you're him." The man said.

Shay raised a suspicious eyebrow at him, "What?"

"Shay Patrick Cormac, late-twenties, unemployed, former alcoholic-"

"Who are you?" Shay interrupted, as he shuffled his pocket knife between his fingers, which didn't go unnoticed by the masked man.

"That's not important. Anyway, I've been gathering information about you. And you seem like the perfect candidate for a job that my clients require to be done."

"And what makes you think I'll say yes?" Shay pointed the knife to the man.

He could sense the smirk underneath the stranger's mask. "I have my means of persuasion."

"You mean blackmailing?"

The stranger chuckled dryly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Shay kept his knife drawn and the stranger looked at it once more, skeptically. "You might want to put that away. No one has to get hurt."

"Tell me who you are first, and I'll think about it."

"I believe you should know," the man raised his phone, "this is as much of a weapon for me as that blade is for you. In a matter of seconds, all your data will be leaked online."

"Not if I kill you before you can even press a button."

"You might want to reconsider that."

Shay narrowed his eyes at him, and hesitantly drew back his blade. He thought this man was serious. He was wearing a mask after all...

"What is that job you were talking about?"

The man put his phone back in his pocket, and kept his hand inside. "That's a more collaborative tone. Now, I'm going to give you an address, and you're going to kill the person who lives there. Is that simple enough for you to understand?"

"I would normally feed guys with such attitudes their tongues. So, watch your tone." Shay growled.

The man completely ignored his comment. "My clients think you're the best man for this job. I personally disagree, but I'm in no position to argue. Just get it done, and you'll be paid handsomely."

"Who are your clients?" The man didn't answer. He stuck his hand out of his pocket, holding a piece of paper.

Shay narrowed his eyes, "You still haven't answered me, though. Who are you?"

The man looked up from the piece of paper. "I'm known as "The Vigilante"."

Shay looked down and snatched the piece of paper from his hand before walking away.

"Good luck!" The Vigilante yelled in a sarcastic tone.

"I make my own luck." Shay mumbled.

Shay kept walking until nightfall before he stopped in front of a Bean Machine coffee shop, where he noticed four people inside, including the barista. He glanced at the piece of paper again, and made sure he got the right address. He headed to the entrance to the building and took the stairs up to the third floor, searching for the apartment "367" as the information on the paper stated. He finally settled in front of the door of the designated apartment and knocked reluctantly. "Who is it?" A voice from inside yelled.

Shay hesitated, "Uh… Repair services." There was no reply, and the silence extended. However, the sound of locks being undone was heard. The door finally opened to reveal a middle-aged, overweight man, clearly helpless. "Come in," he said bitterly.

Shay was dumbfounded. For a moment, he began to question his actions and his decisions. Why was he taking part in this? He didn't even know this guy. And he surely isn't a hitman. Money wasn't even worth it.

The man raised his eyebrows at him, "I said, come in." He emphasized.

Shay shook himself back to reality. He absently turned on his heels and walked out of the building, The man yelled indistinctly behind him, but Shay ignore him and didn't stop, until he heard the sound of the door being shut again. He sped down the stairs and walked all the way back home. Midway, his phone started ringing. The number was unknown but Shay answered anyway.

"How come the target's still alive?" The voice was using a synthesizer, but Shay knew who the caller was.

"I don't want to get involved in this, clean your own mess."

"I knew you weren't the right guy for the job."

The phone call immediately ended. Shay shrugged it off, and got into his house. He grabbed another bottle of wine, and a glass from his kitchen cabinet, before going up to the master bedroom. He put down the bottle and the glass on the end table, and stripped himself into a robe and some pajama pants before crawling into his bed and pouring himself a glass. He started reflecting on his lifestyle and the nature of his connections, which automatically gives him social anxiety. Almost as if it were a sign, his cell phone began to ring again.

"Mister Kenway?"

"Hello Shay. I hope you're doing well."

"I'm fine, thank you, sir."

"Have you got any plans for tomorrow?"

"None. Why?"

"I need you to accompany me on a little business trip."

"Of course. Where to?"

"Upstate. Involves an expansion project. Usually, Warren accompanies me, but he's got his nephew's funeral and all- "

Shay heard an exasperated sigh. "Quite sad, really." Haytham continued.

"I'd be happy to accompany you, sir."

"Good. Be at my place at 11 o'clock."

"Will do. Good night, mister Kenway."

"Good night."

Shay hung up and threw his phone on the side of the bed, slowly sipping more of his wine. A ghost of a smile drew on his lips; it was his chance to prove his worth to his boss. Maybe then he'll finally get that promotion he always wanted.

With that thought in mind, he set the glass aside and tucked himself in before turning off the lamp and drifting off to sleep.


	6. The Aftermath

Evie came back early in the next morning after spending the entire night out with her boyfriend Henry, who, being the gentleman he is, insisted he accompanies her to her doorstep. As soon as Evie opened the door and entered the apartment, her keys dropped to the floor and her eyes widened. Henry saw her reaction from the doorway, so went to his girlfriend to make sure she was okay, but as soon as he saw what she saw, his reaction was almost the same. They were both greeted with the sight of Jacob-sty leftovers, with Jacob himself passed out on the floor, surrounded by empty pizza boxes, plastic cups with beer dripping on the wooden floor, that were later consumed in one giant puddle that mixed with Jacob's drooling.

Evie started shaking with all the anger she built up. Henry gently held her from behind, trying to calm her, but she brutally grasped out of his hold and quickly stomped to the center of the room. As she scoped her surroundings, her eyes landed on the ultimate shocker: a massive gap in the window, which was clearly smashed. Evie felt a tingling feeling in her throat as she growled quietly. She stood next to Jacob, before angrily kicking his arm, which made him wake him up from his state. The twin groaned in pain before he slowly opened his eyes. He rubbed his arm and got up, facing his furious sister. His eyes narrowed at her as his hand went to rub his head, trying to anesthetize his headache.

"Oh, hi Evie." He greeted his sister with a raspy voice.

"What did you do?!" Evie snapped, forcing her brother to completely recover from his sleepy state. He stared at her wide-eyed, before he took a glance at the mess he was surrounded with.

He shrugged. "Nothing that can't be fixed."

Evie had already heard those words before. Countless times. Which means this time isn't going to be any different. Jacob screws up, and once again, it's up to her to make things right again.

"Really?" She crossed her arms." Let me know how you're going to put the window back together. That is if you ever find the missing piece!"

"What window?"

"The big window behind the couch, you moron!"

Jacob cringed, his headache was starting to get worse and worse. "Can you lower your voice please?"

Evie snapped, "Would you be serious for once, Jacob?!"

"I am. Your voice is causing me a headache."

Evie let out a suppressed sigh and crossed her arms, "I don't care. This time, I'm not doing any of the cleaning. And I mean it."

Jacob sighed, "Fine."

He went into his room, leaving Evie and Henry out in the living room. Out of exasperation, Evie put her head and hands on Henry's chest, as the latter wrapped his arms around her back.

"I can't live with him anymore," she mumbled into her boyfriend's chest. Henry didn't reply, but instead continued stroking her hair, hoping he would comfort her.

Meanwhile, Jacob reached for his pills in the drawer of his nightstand and immediately gulped two down with an appalled reaction. He turned around and saw his reaction in giant mirror above his dresser. A look of satisfaction was drawn on his face.

"Still handsome." He chuckled to himself as he ran his hand through his messy hair, feeling his head heavy from his recovering hangover, before he proceeded to brush his teeth and change into fresh clothes and pack his bag with the essentials for the trip. He would hate to admit that he forgot about it, but the essential was that he remembered just in time. He wore blue skinny jeans and an olive hunter vest above a plain white T-shirt, accompanied with some brown combat boots that went up to his calves and some black aviators on his eyes. He decided to damp his hair with strong gel to hold it up in his regular favorite hairstyle.

After he finished grooming himself, he grabbed his backpack and got out to the living room, where Evie was still examining the hole in the window. Henry probably left a while ago.

Jacob groaned, catching her attention. "I told you I would fix it." As soon as she turned around, she eyed his outfit.

"Where are you going?" she asked, raising a confused eyebrow at him.

"Camping trip with the lads. Don't tell me you forgot." He chortled.

Evie squinted her eyes. She couldn't believe she forgot about the trip, especially since she was the one who came up with the idea.

"No… I haven't." She retorted. "But I'm too tired to go."

"Your loss." Jacob shrugged before putting his backpack over his shoulder and heading for the door. Evie stopped him before he headed out.

"You're not leaving before you clean this up, Jacob Frye!"

Jacob slowly turned around and gave her a mocking chuckle. "I'll have the Rooks come and clean it up. Then, you won't even have to lift a single finger. See ya."

He left, be he could feel the flaming eyes landing on his back as she was mentally cursing him with every step he was taking.

He pushed the elevator button and waited for his lift. In the meantime, he bought out his phone and sent a text on the group chat with his friends, informing them he was on his way to pick them up in his van.

Jacob drove all the way to Arno's building. He parked right in front of the entrance, waiting for Arno to get out even though he expected he'd be already outside waiting for him. He reached for his phone and texted him.

 _Get your hipster ass down mate I'm outside._

Right after his text was sent, the door to the Bean Machine was opened, and Arno came out of it holding a cup of coffee and a duffle bag on his shoulder. He wasn't wearing anything overboard: just a white t-shirt covered with a denim hooded jacket, some ripped jeans and white converse. Not to mention his usual beanie. He looked pissed, as if the barista messed up several of his orders before getting the right one.

He opened the backdoor of the van and got in. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long," he said sarcastically.

"For you to only get a stinkin' cup of coffee, yes, you did." Jacob replied, "You could've at least got me a bagel or something."

He took off all of a sudden, making Arno spill some of his coffee on his jeans. Arno yelled at the impact of the hot liquid, penetrating through the rips of his jeans and making contact with his skin. He started cursing Jacob in french along the process. Jacob grinned to himself, satisfied with his revenge.

He continued driving down the road until he reached his second stop. And luckily, those guys were waiting for him right outside. Ezio and Desmond were chatting among themselves while Altaïr was leaning on a wall in a corner, smoking. Jacob stopped right in front of them and greeted them from the window of the passenger seat. "Cheers lads, get in."

Desmond and Ezio quickly got in and greeted their mates, while Altaïr was taking his sweet time putting out his cigarette by squishing it slowly with his foot. Jacob honked his horn briefly, almost startling him. He cleared his throat loudly as soon as he entered the van, making Jacob exasperated.

"I didn't think you would come, Altaïr." Jacob mocked.

Altaïr snorted, "Please. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Ezio rolled his eyes. Jacob shook his head and took off again, making his way to his final stop.

When he arrived to his best mate's building, he honked once and Connor immediately got out of the door, jogging to the passenger seat of the van.

"Hey guys," he greeted, panting of exhaustion.

"Hey mate." Jacob said, "Went for a jog or-"

"No, I just wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible. Things there are driving me crazy, man."

"Haytham being an ass again?

"Yeah, and Edward is chewing his ear off. Again."

"Yeah. Your granddad's a lot less fun when he's sober." Jacob shrugged, making Connor sigh. In order to cheer his best friend up, he turned up the volume of his stereo, blasting rock music through the speakers of his van. Connor immediately got into the mood of the song as he started banging his head back and forth.

"Change the station," Desmond complained, making Connor roll his eyes.

"Hey. My van, my music." Jacob retorted, and Connor slightly smirked.

Desmond felt slightly offended. "What the hell, man?"

"Not your day, is it?" Altaïr commented.

Desmond glared at him before he took out his earphones and went to play his favorite Hip Hop playlist.

Ezio was enjoying the music but he was more focused on his phone, chatting away. Meanwhile Altaïr and Arno were sulking in their seats silently, while the latter occasionally took small sips of his coffee, looking disappointingly at his ruined jeans and sighing every time. Altaïr was shamelessly laughing at him, as he found it pathetic but somehow hilarious.

Connor was staring out the window the entire time. He noticed the sign at the side of the road, and its large font informing them they were leaving the city's boarders. He exhaled as he took in the smell of fresh air, but the violent winds started fumbling with his hair and slapping his face. He could tell that Jacob started to speed up. He looked at him and saw him in a state that was so natural for him. His hands were gripping the steering wheel as his foot stepped harder on the gas petal, while the wind was playing with his hair, completely messing it up. Connor couldn't deny that his mate looked badass, especially with those aviators he had on, and the rock music blasting through the speakers of his van. Jacob was more or less the reckless one in their friendship, while Connor was the one with the impulse control. But the latter sometimes wishes he could be like his friend. With not a single worry on his mind. Because lately, his problems were draining him, and his anxious and overthinking nature tends to make everything ten times worse. He hoped he would somehow be able to clear his head on this trip, even though he knew he would come back to this awful reality of his eventually.


	7. Randy Dandy Oh in the Forest

After arriving to the camp grounds, Jacob parked the van and let the others get out. Each one of them brought out his equipment and went to set up his tent. Jacob shortly joined them afterwards and started gathering wood to build a fire, with Desmond helping him after he was done setting up his own tent. After they placed the logs in the pit, Desmond went to borrow Altaïr's lighter to ignite the fire.

"I got this," Jacob stopped him, bringing a lighter out of his pocket.

Desmond raised his eyebrows at him. "Didn't know you smoked."

"Eh. Been trying to cut down." He lit up one of the logs, and the others soon caught on fire.

"And how's that coming along?"

"I went from one pack a day to two and a half," Jacob looked up at Desmond and smiled, earning a snort from the latter.

They went and called out the others, and so the group of friends gathered around the fire and stared at it silently, embracing their solitude.

"Does anyone want a beer?" Jacob asked, interrupting the others meditation. Their heads shot up towards him and they all gave words of approval.

"Well then, you're gonna have to get up and get it yourself." Jacob said before walking towards the cooler and grabbing a cold one, earning curses from a couple.

Desmond, Connor and Ezio followed him and did the same.

Altaïr took out a cigarette and lit it. Arno was sitting next to him, staring at him as he blew out consecutive rings of smoke.

Altaïr shortly noticed him. "What?"

"Mind if I have one of those?" Arno asked him.

Altaïr wordlessly handed him his cigarette pack along with the lighter. Arno took out a cigarette before lighting it and returning the pack to Altaïr.

Jacob, Desmond and Connor came back and sat down.

"So, chain-smokers, what have you been up to?" Jacob asked.

Arno stopped inhaling at his question and rested the cigarette between his fingers. Altaïr eyed Jacob as he puffed out another blow.

"Chain-smokers? A bit hypocritical from you, Jacob. Don't you think?"

Ezio chuckled at him, "couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"Yeah, well. He's not wrong," Jacob shrugged, "but not even his snarky comments can bring me down today."

"You seem awfully cheery," Arno commented.

"He's still boasting about his party last night," Connor said, "apparently, people loved it."

"Hell yeah, they did." Jacob proudly confirmed.

"Must be nice to be King again." Ezio said.

"How did you fuck it up this time?" Altaïr asked.

Jacob felt a direct hit on his ego,"What?"

"It wouldn't be a Jacob Frye party if something didn't break, at least."

Ezio eyed Altaïr, then turned to Jacob. "No offense, fratello, but he does have a point." he said, causing the others to chuckle.

Jacob gave him a displeased look before looking at his feet, "I may or may not have broken the window," he muttered, his words barely audible, before he took a chug of beer.

"What was that?" Altair teased.

"I said I may or may not have broken the window," he yelled, almost choking on his drink, causing Altair to smirk.

"Interesting," he commented.

"Why are you always acting like that Altaïr?"

"Like what?"

"Like an asshole."

Altaïr chuckled, "I can't help it, it's too funny."

"Oh, so my life's a joke to you?"

"Well, kind of, yes."

Jacob scoffed, "Fuck you, man."

Connor intervened, "guys, seriously, how about you smell the fresh air instead of bickering with each other? It's what we came here to do after all."

Jacob eyed Altaïr, "truce?"

Altaïr eyed him back, "yeah, man."

They both laughed afterwards and continued what they were doing.

*

"Did you bring your guitar, Ezio?" Arno asked.

"What do you think?" Ezio replied, getting up and going to get his guitar from the van.

He returned and sat back down on the log, before positioning his guitar on his lap and tuning it. Afterwards, he started strumming the chords, jamming some mellow tunes and setting the mood for his friends. There was the fire, the silence and the sole sound of the guitar tunes; everyone couldn't ask for a better ambience.

Desmond even brought out a bag of marshmallows and started passing it around. Everyone grabbed a handful and put two or three marshmallows on their sticks before taking turns in roasting them by the fire.

Arno examined the bag when it was his turn. "Are they gluten free by any chance?" he asked genuinely, but the others all glared at him, almost mocking him. "What? I'm allergic," he continued, but they all ignored him.

Everyone was having a good time, even Altaïr. However, his skeptical nature sensed footsteps approaching the camp, and he immediately shushed Ezio.

"We're not the only ones here," he said, "someone's coming."

Desmond gasped, "are we finally gonna discover Bigfoot?!" His sarcasm clearly seeped through his words.

"No, you idiot. I'm serious."

"Altaïr, these are camping grounds. Other people come here too," Connor said, before taking a bit from his marshmallow.

Before Altaïr had the time to think of a smart response, his attention diverted to the source of the sound he's been hearing. The footsteps came to a stop, and there was now a person right in front of them. It was a young woman, clearly in her early-to-mid twenties. She looked lost.

"Excuse me," she said, "my car broke down in the middle of the road, and I don't know what to do to fix it. Do any of you by any chance know their way with vehicles?"

Altaïr lowered his guard down. Moments beforehand, he was ready to fight whatever threat he was about to face, no matter how big or small, and he refused to listen to anyone who would contradict him, but now he felt embarrassed.

Jacob boldly came up to her, "I'll help you," he said in a smoky voice as he smiled at her, clearly coming on to her.

The rest of the crew clearly weren't surprised, especially Ezio. He must admit, Jacob sometimes outdid him when it came to charming people. He had unbelievable, fairly odd and somehow unmatched charisma. It wasn't just the sweet words, it was his his aura.

Surprisingly, the young woman didn't get affected by his charms. She started thanking her good fortune that she found someone to help her, before she guided Jacob out of the woods and to the main road where her car was parked. She drove a white Mini Cooper that seemed frankly too tacky for Jacob. _But hey, he wasn't judging._

"So what's the problem here?" He asked her.

"The car wouldn't start, no matter how many times I turned the key in the ignition," her answer clearly showed she had no knowledge about motors.

He went in the car and, despite knowing it will be useless, turned the key in the ignition, trying to see the problem for himself. He was right, it was pretty useless, but at least the problem's been diagnosed, and easy to fix. _Hopefully._

"Your engine is dead," he told the young woman, "you probably need a new battery."

"And how do I get one of those?" She asked obnoxiously, but Jacob didn't really take it personally, she was clearly.

"Unfortunately, there are no car shops nearby. You can call a tow truck and get the car picked up."

The young woman brought up her cell phone from her pocket. She sighed as she began to curse her luck again, "great, my phone's dead too."

Jacob instantly grabbed his phone, "here, I'll call one for you."

"Appreciate it."

As he went to dial the selected number, he groaned as he noticed that his cell phone picked up no signal.

"Great, no signal."

The young woman's expressions made her seem like she was going to have a breakdown, and yet she calmly answered, "what do I do then?"

Jacob wanted to offer her to stay with them for the night, and figure all of this out tomorrow, but she knew she'd have trouble saying yes to him, since he was a stranger after all. However, she did look a little bit familiar…

He cleared his throat, "You know, my friends and I are spending the night out here. You're welcome to join us if you want," he offered, "you'll take the van and we'll sleep in the tents if it makes you feel safe. Tomorrow, you can go back to the city with us and we'll get a truck to pick up your car."

The young woman had a stern look in her eyes, one that obviously says that she didn't trust him. But she realized she had no other choice.

"Alright," she agreed, "but I'm sleeping in my car."

Jacob shrugged, "fair enough. I'm Jacob, by the way."

"Gem."

"A pleasure," he gave her his signature smirk, trying again to see if maybe she would fall for his charms. And he failed, again.

She went past him back into the woods, where the rest of the boys were gathered, and Jacob followed her. He wasn't sure if her attitude made her annoying or, on the other hand, attractive. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Fellas, this is Gem," he introduced, "her car's battery is dead and she has to wait till tomorrow to get it fixed. Until then, she is staying here, with us."

"Sure, it's nice to have good company," Ezio said, flashing his bigger smile, and Gem rolled her eyes.

"If any of you try anything stupid, you're dead."

 _Ooh, she's feisty._

Altaïr was impressed with her confidence. It made her slightly intimidating, which automatically made her appealing to the eye, at least to him.

She exchanged looks with everyone who was sitting, until she fixated her eyes on Altaïr, who was staring at her with a dark piercing gaze. Feeling flustered, Gem immediately looked away.

Jacob went and got her a log to sit on. She thanked him before she sat down, barely taking up one quarter of the log.

"May I?" Jacob pointed out to the vacant space next to Gem, implying he wanted to sit next to her.

Gem merely shrugged and said, "sure."


End file.
